The Imperial Court was a stage, and every morning, the actors took their places. The Emperor, seated upon the Dragon Throne, was the audience and the ultimate judge. Below him, the Princes, Dukes, and Ministers were performers, their elaborate robes of silk and brocade costumes that signified their rank and ambition. The air in the Hall of Supreme Harmony was thick with the scent of sandalwood incense and unspoken rivalry, a heavy curtain that had yet to rise on the day's drama.
Wei Yingluo was not permitted on this stage, but she was a master of the wings. She had spent the past week cultivating her network of observers, a web of seemingly insignificant maids and eunuchs who were now her eyes and ears. They brought her snippets of conversation, reports of unusual movements, and the shifting moods of the powerful. She was the cartographer of whispers, and the map she was drawing led directly to the heart of the Second Prince's ambitions.
